One Last Chance
by Kirayoshi
Summary: One moment in time, Peter and MJ made their decision. But the fates aren't done with them yet. And Mephisto is stirring... Post OMD/BND/OMIT. Chapter 3 up. This is for you Peter/MJ shippers.
1. Here It Goes Again

Disclaimers: Marvel owns 'em, Quesada decides their destinies (or at least did until recently), and we all just watch (and occasionally bang our heads on the desk). I make no money off of this, although the art of writing is often quite cathartic and certainly less expensive than a psychiatrist.

Rating: PG-13. Things are gonna get intense before they calm down.

Pairing: Peter/MJ. There is no other option. Some other canon couples may appear, as this will ultimately involve a fairly sizable cast of Marvel's finest.

Spoilers: OMD and the Post-OMD world, up to Big Time. Apart from that, all bets are off.

Summary: One Moment in Time ago, they made their choices. But the fates aren't through with Peter Parker and Mary Jane Watson. And all the while, Mephisto has awakened...

Spider-Man:

One Last Chance

Chapter one

Here It Goes Again

"_It could be ten, but then again, I can't remember  
Half an hour since a quarter to four.  
Throw on your clothes, the second side of Surfer Rosa,  
And you leave me with my jaw on the floor._

_"Just when you think that you're in control,  
Just when you think that you've got a hold,  
Just when you get on a roll,  
Here it goes, here it goes, here it goes again.  
Oh, here it goes again.  
I should have known, should have known, should have known again,  
But here it goes again."_

_-OK Go_

"_Here It Goes Again"_

"Adrian Toomes, as I live and breathe," Spider-Man announced gleefully, as he threw a webline at the winged burglar known publicly as the Vulture. "Long time no kick your butt!"

It was a familiar scenario for Spider-Man; his hands grasped around a length of webbing as his lithe body sliced through the air, being dragged through the glass and steel canyons of Manhattan by one of his oldest opponents, the other end of the webline stuck fast against the small of the flying felon's back. But the beleaguered hero could not prevent the nostalgic smile that formed beneath his mask, even as his prey attempted to lose him, slamming the hero's body into buildings and beneath elevated train bridges as he flew onward.

"Gotta say, Toomes," he chuckled as he pulled himself along his webbing, hand over hand toward the Vulture, "as much as I wish the state's prisons had better security measures for costumed criminals, it's been great duking it out with you again! And just two days after I took down Mysterio for trying to heist Horizon Labs, it's like old home week!"

"Insolent insect!" the Vulture shouted as he flew a complex weaving pattern along a field of lampposts that lined the streets of New York's banking district.

"That's 'insolent arachnid' Toomes, and we both know that," Spider-Man corrected him jovially as he navigated the unexpected slalom course with balletic grace. "But seriously, that guy who's been calling himself the Vulture lately? No fun at all, with that red costume, and that whole Predator-mandible thing? What's up with that?"

"Will you never cease prattling?" Vulture snarled testily as he once again banked suddenly, hoping to force Spider-Man to swing wildly like a wrecking ball against the side of the building behind him.

"We've been doing this song and dance for how many years now," the hero quipped, "and you still have to ask that? Haven't you been paying attention? It's like Bruce Springsteen playing 'Born to Run', the fans expect it!" _Okay, Parker, _he thought to himself as he narrowly dodged another outcropping, _time to end this._

Spider-Man thrust his legs forward, pushing against the side of the wall as it rushed past him. Using his natural ability to adhere to any surface, he anchored his feet against the side of the building and tugged hard on the webline that connected him to the Vulture. Sure enough, the sudden yank caused Toomes to lose control of his flight harness, leaving him careening wildly like a trout tugging against a fishing line. Spider-Man grabbed the line with his left hand, securing it to a nearby flagpole, as he extended his right arm, firing another strand of webbing against the Vulture's straining form, grabbing him securely at the right left wrist. Pulling the webling taut, he was able to pull Vulture's wrist toward the flagpole, where he tied it securely with a dozen more loops of webbing. Within a minute, he had securely trussed his prey to the flagpole, bound by enough webs to prevent him from wriggling free.

"There we are," Spider-Man announced as he perched himself briefly against the windowpane beside his captive prey. "All ready for Thanksgiving. Once again, Toomes, it's been a pleasure. We gotta do this again sometime."

"You may rest assured, you meaningless arachnid," Vulture growled, stressing the word 'arachnid' with poison in his voice, "that day will come sooner than you anticipate, and next time, I'll be the victor!"

"Given your current track record," Spider-Man quipped, "I'd take a piece of that action." He pulled a scrap of paper out of his belt compartment, scribbled his customary salutation of "Courtesy of your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man" and stuck the note on the Vulture's back, where the sticky webbing held it in place. "Well, it's been giggles, but I've got things to do and you've got time to serve. Toodles!" He leapt lightly from the window, snagging a ledge on the opposite side of the street with a webline, and swung away from the downed felon. As he made his way back to his apartment, he triggered the Bluetooth headpiece under his mask to contact Avengers HQ to inform them of where he left the Vulture so they could send the police to pick him up.

The sun was just setting behind the city as he arrived at his apartment in downtown Manhattan. Not the Taj Mahal, he conceded, but a much nicer place than that hole-in-the-wall he had shared with Vin Gonzales last year. "To say nothing about his sister Michelle," he mentally amended, before deciding that saying nothing about his former landlady was the best way to go. He lighted gently to the rooftop of his apartment building and surreptitiously glanced about to make certain that his presence wasn't being monitored. Satisfied that the coast was clear, he scaled the outside wall to his apartment window, jimmied it open from the top and slid inside.

The shower spray felt invigorating as he washed away the dust and grime he acquired during his bout with the Vulture. Peter found himself once again taking advantage of the bathroom acoustics by singing to himself; "If it hadn't been for Cotton-eyed Joe, I'd been married a long time ago. Where did you come from, where did you go? Where did you come from, Cotton-eyed Joe?"

Once showered, shaved, shampooed and dressed, he was ready for an evening of vegging out on the couch. He glanced at the clock on the wall, noting the time. "Seven-thirty," he muttered to himself. "Maybe I can catch the news before 'Bones' starts." He grabbed his remote, turned on his television and located the news channel. Even as he had just collapsed onto his sofa, the news anchor was announcing that "NYPD officers had just arrested Adrian Toomes, a.k.a. the Vulture, on suspicion of a daring daylight bank heist. Witnesses claimed that the vigilante and part-time Avenger Spider-Man had aided the police in apprehending the Vulture. Mayor Jameson's office offered no comment."

"Oh he had some comments, all right," Peter chuckled, imagining what Jameson must have been ranting. Ever since Spider-Man was officially recognized as both a member of the Avengers and as part of the new Future Foundation(what used to be called the Fantastic Four), Jameson's efforts to use his position as Mayor of New York City to collar him met with severe resistance. Not to mention that his approval ratings in recent months have been steadily on the decline. As any number of political pundits would happily inform Jameson, "It's the economy, stupid!" Peter smiled as he switched off the news broadcast. Schadenfreude, he had to admit to himself, was fun.

He took a few minutes to thumb through the mail he had neglected earlier. No bills, he noted with relief, just a few ads and a postcard from Carlie Cooper. He was grateful to read that things were working out for her, but he still felt a faint pang of melancholy as he reflected on what they had shared together, what might have been and what could never be between them.

He shook off this rising gloom and placed the postcard back on his coffee table as he returned to his apartment. All things taken into consideration, his life was pretty good right now. He had good friends, a solid and rewarding career with Horizon Labs, and Aunt May was happy with her new husband (John Jameson, father to J. Jonah Jameson and a man so gregarious, charming and intelligent that Peter began to suspect that maybe JJJ was adopted). Part of him still regretted that he and Carlie couldn't have made a go of their relationship, but there was no real heartache attached to their split. In the end, they both realized that it was the right thing for both of them. They were meant to be friends, nothing more.

He turned his attention back to his TV. He figured on a quiet evening. A delivery pizza, maybe some Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert before going to bed. He was scheduled to log in a few hours at Horizon Labs tomorrow and Max Modell wanted to go over the prototypes for a new magnetic security lock they were working on, so a good night's sleep was definitely called for. He picked up the handset on his phone and was about to dial up his favorite pizza place when the sudden buzz of his doorbell commanded his attention. Replacing the handset, he hauled himself off of the sofa and opened the front door. The door almost flew back toward him as a red-haired hurricane blew into his apartment.

"Hey, Tiger," Mary Jane Watson greeted him brightly as she entered walked past him, kissing his cheek lightly. "I come bearing good news and Chinese takeout." She handed him one of the two plastic bags she was carrying, and placed the other bag on the table. "That bag's got fried rice and chow mien noodles," she explained, "and I got sweet and sour pork, broccoli beef and General Tso's chicken in this bag. That last one's a bit spicy, so consider yourself warned. Oh, and some shrimp eggrolls and chicken potstickers as well."

"Uh, nice to see you too, MJ," Peter stammered, taken somewhat aback at her unexpected appearance. While they were no longer a couple, she was still arguably his closest and dearest friend in the world, and despite the fact that she caught him by surprise he was genuinely glad to see her. He placed the bag on his kitchenette counter and rummaged his cabinet for two clean plates. "To what do I owe your sudden largesse?"

"Sorry I didn't call first," Mary Jane apologized, "but after the auditions today, I just had time to swing by the Orient Express Take-Out and pick up dinner for two. I got some great news and I just had to celebrate it with you."

"I'm honored," Peter smiled as he started serving up rice and noodles from the take-out cartons onto two plates. "Uh, did you bring chopsticks, or do you prefer cutlery?"

"I got two pairs of chopsticks at the Express," MJ answered as she removed the cartons from her bag and set aside the two fortune cookies for after dinner. "But don't stand on ceremony on my account if you want to use a fork and knife."

"Hey, spider-agility," Peter reminded her as he brought the plates out and set them on the coffee table, along with a couple of serving spoons for the entrees. "So, what's your good news?"

"I got a major part for a prestigious Shakespearean company production of 'Much Ado About Nothing'!" MJ positively beamed. "I'll be playing Beatrice."

"Hey, that is good news," Peter's smile matched MJ's as he hugged his friend in congratulations. "I remember that movie version awhile back, Beatrice was the Emma Thompson role, right?"

"That's the one," Mary Jane answered. She coughed theatrically and began to recite, "'And there will the devil meet me, like an old cuckold, with horns on his head, and say, Get you to heaven, Beatrice, get you to heaven; here's no place for you maids. So away to Saint Peter for the heavens; he shows me where the bachelors sit, and there live we as merry as the day is long.'"

"Author, author!" Peter shouted, applauding enthusiastically. Mary Jane bowed and smiled, stating, "Thank you, thank you, you're too kind."

Peter chuckled briefly as she finished bowing. "You start serving, and I'll get us something to wash down the celebratory repast," Peter offered as he headed toward the refrigerator. Opening the door he started rattling off, "I got iced tea, root beer...hey, I still have some zinfandel left over from my apartment warming. You're not driving home, are you?"

"Subway," Mary Jane answered. "I'll have a small glass of wine, please."

"Madame has exquisite taste."

Mary Jane chuckled at Peter's fake French accent. "Oh, I might be out of the loop for awhile during rehearsals," she added as she sat on the sofa and opened up the takeout boxes. "Nora Lurhman, the producer, she's considering renting some business suites as temporary housing for the cast and crew in Jersey City. Nothing fancy, four or five bodies to a room, but it beats having to drive all the way over from Manhattan."

"Am I going to have to head for New Jersey to see you perform?" Peter asked.

"Just the initial rehearsals will be in Jersey City, until the Foxwoods Theater on Broadway is available for final staging. From what I hear the Foxwoods is still dealing with this over-budgeted musical trainwreck that, well, some people involved will probably be looking into other lines of work, if you catch my meaning."

"What, half the cast said 'Good luck', instead of 'Break a leg'?" Peter joked. "Or referred to 'Macbeth' by name?"

"OY, you'd think!" MJ laughed as she began spooning broccoli beef and spicy chicken onto her rice and noodles, recalling the time-honored theater superstitions. "You name it, it went wrong. Special effects failures, opening delays, the writer/director replaced at the last minute, leading to massive rewrites, the lead was injured, the opening night reviews were just brutal, and after that audiences stayed away in droves. Glad I wasn't involved in that fiasco! I think that's why the Foxwoods decided to stick to Shakespeare for this one. And the production company has a proven track record for hits."

"That's show-biz, I guess," Peter shrugged his shoulders. Returning with a wine bottle and two glasses, Peter added, "Seriously, MJ, let me know when the play opens. I'll buy tickets for opening night."

"Oh?" Mary Jane smirked, arching an eyebrow coquettishly. "'Tickets'? You used the plural? Who's the lucky lady?"

"Uh, well," Peter hemmed and hawed briefly before continuing, "I was actually thinking of inviting Aunt May and John. Figured they'd enjoy a night of theater, right?"

"Right..." Mary Jane nodded sagely. She glanced at the coffee table where she had placed the take-out cartons, and noticed a drop of sweet-and-sour sauce landed on the post-card. She found herself reading the signature on the card and fell silent for a moment.

"Hey, Red," Peter's gentle voice nudged her out of her reverie. "You okay?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah," she replied, shaking her head slightly. "And you, Peter? How are you doing, really?"

"Me?" he shrugged noncommittally as he uncorked the wine bottle. "You know me, MJ, livin' the dream."

"Yeah, I do know you," she answered, a faint air of sorrow in her voice. Her eyes still on the post-card, she found herself unable to stop asking the next obvious question; "You hear from Carlie?"

Peter regarded her levelly, with an unaccusing eye. "You saw the post-card."

She nodded. "I didn't mean to pry, it's just that, well...I'm sorry it didn't work out with you two."

"Hey, it's okay," Peter assured her as he started pouring the wine. "Carlie's where she needs to be right now. She's got a good career, she's doing some good in Los Angeles, her CSI team's already helped solve at least one high-profile arson case. Plus she's become a key player with her roller team, 'The Riot Grrls'." Handing Mary Jane her glass and filling his own, he concluded, "I don't regret being with her, MJ, but she and I both know it's better this way. She's in a good place right now, and so am I." Lifting his glass he concluded, "To Carlie. The LA roller-derby scene won't know what hit 'em."

"To Carlie," Mary Jane echoed, touching her glass to Peter's. As the glasses chimed, MJ added, "And don't worry about your love life, Tiger. A great guy like you, not a hardship to look at, I'm sure you won't be dateless for long. Y'know what they say, plenty of fish in the sea."

Peter nodded slowly as he took his plate and started spooning some extra sweet and sour pork over his rice. "Maybe," he commented. "But right now I've put away my rod and reel." When he saw the sudden grimace on MJ's face, Peter added, "That didn't sound so naughty in my head. Seriously, MJ, I'm just saying that I'm taking myself off of the dating market for awhile."

"You sure, Petey?" Mary Jane asked, concern for a friend coloring her words.

"I got a lot on my plate now," Peter answered. Glancing at the plate of Chinese take-out before him, he added, "metaphorically speaking. I got a good job at Horizon Labs, plus I'm with both the Avengers and the Fantastic—er, the Future Foundation, I've got a pretty full life right now."

"If you say so," Mary Jane answered as she served herself some spicy chicken and sweet-and-sour pork. "If it's right for you, then I'll stand by you, you know that. I just don't like thinking that you're here alone."

Peter placed a hand gently on Mary Jane's knee, squeezing it reassuringly. "Thanks for caring, MJ. But I'm okay for now. I'm just at a point where I need to prioritize my life. Maybe get some savings set up with my gig at Horizon, get some debts paid off, that sort of thing. In a few months, I'll probably consider dipping my toe back into the dating pool, but for now, I'm where I need to be."

Mary Jane smiled, recognizing the wisdom in her friend's words. "In that case, Tiger," she announced, lifting her glass in another toast, "Here's to 'where we need to be'."

"Salud," Peter answered as their glasses clinked together a second time.

The remainder of their meal was accompanied by friendly conversation, laughter, gossip and occasional companionable silences. After an hour and change, Peter placed his emptied plate on the coffee table and noticed Mary Jane's empty glass. "Did you want a refill, MJ?" he asked.

"No thanks, Peter," Mary Jane answered. "I have to be heading home soon anyway. Oh, wait," she added suddenly, pulling out a package from the bottom of one of her take-out bags. "Almost forgot, what's Chinese take-out without...ta-da," she presented Peter with a fortune cookie.

"Ready, MJ?" Peter asked as she held her own cookie. "On three, one, two, three!" They broke open their cookies and withdrew the slips of paper inside. "You're my guest, you go first," Peter offered.

Mary Jane glanced at the slip and began to read it aloud; "You will soon have the opportunity to correct a great mistake." Glancing at Peter for a second, she added, "In bed." Peter suppressed a snort as the redhead chuckled. "Oh come on, you were thinking it, right?"

"I was not," Peter denied feebly, his own chuckling fit betraying him. "Okay, here's mine," he added as he looked at his fortune slip. "The path to Heaven often leads through Hell." Putting the slip down he looked at Mary Jane for a second, and added, "Somehow, 'in bed' doesn't work for that one."

"Oh well," Mary Jane quipped as she grabbed her purse from the couch. "Hey, I gotta go. I'll call you tomorrow when I get more details about the rehearsal schedule."

"We'll talk then," Peter answered. "And, hey, congratulations again. I'm insanely proud of you."

"Thanks, Tiger," she smiled as she kissed him on the cheek. "And I don't know if I mentioned it yet, but I'm pretty damn proud of what you've been doing. With Horizon Labs and..." she hesitated, not quite wanting to finish the sentence. "Well, you take care of yourself."

"Will do, MJ. And you too." They hugged briefly before parting. " 'Bye."

-o-

As Mary Jane Watson rode the subway back to her neighborhood, she reflected on her evening with Peter. Not for the first time, she felt a familiar and not-unpleasant melancholy that pervaded her thoughts whenever she considered her relationship with that sweet, geeky young man. The man the world knew as a former photographer and now inventor and engineer for Horizon Labs.

The man she knew as Peter Parker. Friend. Lover. Spider-Man.

She hadn't told him. She hoped she would never have to tell him. He wasn't the only one who wasn't interested in the dating scene right now. She hadn't been involved with any man seriously since her brief(but not brief enough, she thought darkly) liaison with Bobby Carr. And she didn't miss the dating scene, not for a moment.

There was really only one man she ever wanted in that way again. And for various reasons, he was no longer an option.

She got off at her regular stop, headed out of the subway terminal and stepped out on the brightly lit streets near her apartment. As she entered her apartment building, she shook off the bittersweet thoughts that always accompanied her memories of Peter Parker and decided to take a quick shower before going to bed.

"Hey, red," a suave, masculine voice startled her as she inserted the key in her apartment lock. With a terrible recognition she turned to face the speaker.

Bobby Carr smiled knowingly at her. "You doing anything tonight?"

-o-

And in the deepest pit of Hell, Mephisto stirred...

-o-

_Author's Note: Yeah, I have issues with the way things were run in the Spider-titles over the last few years. The fact is that, while quite a few of the stories during the Brand New Day arc were actually fairly decent if not downright brilliant, One More Day was a train wreck of epic proportions, made only worse by One Moment in Time. The dilemma; how to undo OMD/OMIT without either invalidating BND/Big Time, or creating a worse continuity snarl than if Hawkman were to join the Legion of Superheroes? _

_My ultimate goal is not to retcon OMD, but to clarify it, to address what I feel were the storyline's big unanswered questions, as well as some unanswered questions regarding other Marvel stories in recent years. What was Mephisto really up to? Why did Peter and MJ feel that they had no choice but to accept his deal? Why did MJ try to push Peter into a romance with Carlie Cooper? How did Norman Osborn suddenly rise to power? I plan to explore these and other questions as the story progresses. Hopefully I'll manage to tell a compelling story that respects the characters and entertains the readers. We'll find out together, won't we? _

_Also, I plan to cherry-pick from Marvel continuity, since I haven't been following it very much. I'm aware of the main events in recent years, but not every little detail. So please don't bother writing to tell me that character X died in a recent issue of title Y, or Loki's supposed to be a kid or Kitty Pryde should be wearing that goldfish bowl over her head so she can interact with others while her powers are out of whack. This isn't quite the 616, but a reasonably close approximation. Besides, what's with that goldfish bowl anyway? Yo, Kitty, Mysterio called, he wants his look back!_

_And yes, Loki and Kitty Pryde will both figure in my story, along with the Avengers, the X-Men and the Future Foundation(formerly the Fantastic Four, say that ten times fast!). I'm setting this up like a major Marvel crossover, only centering on Spider-Man instead of the Avengers and the X-Men as is the norm. How does it all come together? In the immortal words of River Song, "Ah-ah-ah, spoilers, sweetie."_

_Feedback, it's chicken soup for the fanfic writer's soul. _

_Peace out, Kirayoshi._


	2. Possession

_Don't own anything in this story. All characters are property of Marvel Entertainment._

Chapter two

Possession

"_Into the night I stumble,  
It's morning that I dread—  
Another day of knowing not  
The path I fear to tread._

_Into this sea of waking dreams,  
I follow without pride,  
For nothing stands between us, dear,  
And I won't be denied!"_

—_Sarah McLachlan_  
"_Possession"_

"If I had a million dollars, I'd buy your love...If I had a million dollars..."

The incessant repeat loop of the Barenaked Ladies singing forced Peter from his sound sleep. As he stirred himself, he remembered that he had set the chorus of one of his favorite songs as a ring-tone on his cellular. He opened his eyes and immediately clamped them shut again as early morning sunlight filtered through the blinds in his bedroom window. He fumbled for his cell-phone and glanced at his alarm clock: 5:47 a.m. "God almighty," he whispered to himself as he switched the phone to 'answer' mode. "If this is a telemarketer," he warned drowsily, "I will strangle you through the phoneline."

"Peter?"

The timid, almost frightened tone in her voice roused him fully from his lethargy, leaving him alert and concerned. "MJ?" he asked. "You okay?"

The phone remained silent for two seconds before she answered. "I'm sorry I woke you up, Peter, but I need to see you. As soon as possible."

"Hey, no problem," Peter sat up and started to lift himself from his bed. "You want me to come over to your place?"

"No," Mary Jane raised her voice sharply, then faded again. "I mean, I...I think I'd rather be somewhere more public..."

"What is it, MJ? What's wrong?"

"Something...something happened last night, after I got back to my apartment. I just...Please, Peter, can we just meet somewhere public?"

"Okay, okay," Peter conceded. There was no question where his loyalty lay in this matter. Something had made Mary Jane Watson, one of the strongest people Peter knew who wasn't in the habit of dressing in Spandex and saving the world on a regular basis, legitimately scared. If she needed his help, she had it, no questions asked. "You know the Starbuck's on 127th and Romita? Just about three blocks from my place?"

"Yeah, I know where it is," Mary Jane answered.

"I'll meet you there."

"Thanks, Peter."

"Don't mention it, MJ. We'll sort this out, okay? I'll see you then. 'Bye." Peter disconnected the line and immediately rushed to the shower. There was no need to mull anything over. All other commitments in his life right now were effectively on hold for the time being.

If Mary Jane needed him, he was there. It was that simple.

* * *

When he arrived at the coffee shop, MJ was perched on the edge of an overstuffed easy chair, her forearms resting on her knees, her hands clasped in front of her. From the darkening skin under her eyes, Peter guessed that she hadn't slept well last night, if at all. "Hey," he greeted her quietly, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "You okay?"

"I've been better, Peter," she admitted, but still managed a slight smile.

"You have anything yet, MJ?" Peter gestured toward the counter. When MJ shook her head, Peter offered, "Amaretto latte venti, right?"

"You remember?" MJ asked in genuine surprise.

Peter just smiled knowingly. "I'll snag a couple of scones too. My treat."

Within two minutes, Peter returned with two coffees and the scones. He handed Mary Jane her drink and sat down on the opposite side of her table. He gauged her appearance as he sipped his mocha; there was a sag to her shoulders that wasn't there the night before, a weariness in her posture and her face. Something happened to her after their impromptu celebration of her new starring role, something that had taken the joy of her good news away from her. Peter didn't press her for information, but waited patiently for her to tell him on her own.

Finally, after swallowing a gulp of her coffee for courage, she began. "Last night, I ran into the biggest mistake I ever made..."

* * *

Eight hours earlier:

"So, MJ," Bobby Carr smiled toothily. "You going to invite me in or what?"

Mary Jane Watson regarded the man standing before her. "Wasn't planning on it, no," she answered flatly.

Bobby Carr smirked, that practiced half-smile that looked so condescending, especially over that embarrassing love-patch goatee of his. "Okay, I figure I deserved that. I made some mistakes, I'll admit that. But I'm straightening my life out. I cleaned up my act, started working things out, got a new agent who's hooking me up with some key roles. Did you know I'll be auditioning for the role of Fiyero in 'Wicked' next week?"

Mary Jane smiled at his announcement, only as a matter of form. "Yeah, that's good news, Bobby. But it's late and I'm tired, so I'm going to turn in." Mary Jane unlocked the door to her apartment, and began to open the door.

Bobby pressed the palm of his right hand against her door, slamming it shut. "Don't be that way, MJ," his smile became more predatory, like a shark smelling blood, as he leaned toward Mary Jane, his left hand reaching for her chin. "I came back her for you, y'know. We had something good, babe, and I think we can have it again. C'mon, how about a second chance?"

Mary Jane pushed his hand away from her, a hard scowl on her face. "Okay, Carr," she announced. "I tried being polite about it, but apparently you won't take a hint, so let me spell it out for you. You were a mistake and I wish I never met you. Yeah, you were fun for the first few dates, but in the end you're nothing but a shallow, self-centered jerk, and I'd just as soon never set eyes on you again." Pushing him aside so she could get to her door, she added, "Just get out of my way, and out of my life."

As she reached for the doorknob, Carr grabbed her wrist and wrenched it aside. "That's not how it plays out, little lady," Carr's voice, while still sickeningly sweet, now carried overtones of violence. "I'm not giving you up without a fight."

"Have it your way." Mary Jane grabbed Carr's arm with her free hand and twisted it hard enough to force Carr to let go of her wrist. Before he could regroup, she kneed him hard in the solar plexus. "Fight's over," she snapped at the doubled-over figure before her. "You lost. Deal with it and get out!"

"Why you miserable..." Carr growled, his hands balling into fists as he staggered toward Mary Jane.

A door across the hallway opened up, and a middle-aged ex-police officer emerged, steady eyes regarding Carr with bland contempt. "Is there a problem, Miss Watson?" he greeted Mary Jane with an almost-casual tone, but there was no mistaking the steel within his words.

"No problem, Mr. Metzger," Mary Jane answered, staring ice daggers at her would-be assailant. "He was just leaving."

"Well, I just called the police department, just to be safe," he replied smilingly. "They should be here in about five minutes."

"Stay out of this, old man," Carr spat back at him. "This ain't your business!"

"I'm the landlord for this building," Metzger answered with the voice of a man who had successfully dealt with more than a few convenience store hold-ups in his day without losing his composure, "and you're harassing one of my tenants, so yeah, I'm making it my business. Now the way I see it, you can walk out of here in ten seconds and go sleep at home, or wait longer than that and be perp-walked out of here, and sleep it off in a cramped cell. It's a free country, so your call."

Carr glared at Metzger, and again at Mary Jane, in dead silence for five tense seconds. Finally he turned toward the door, saying to the landlord, "Like she said, I was just leaving." Turning one last time toward Mary Jane, he added, "This isn't over. We will talk again."

"And the answer will still be no," she replied emotionlessly. Carr turned around and left the apartment building. After he left, Mary Jane leaned against the wall, slumping her shoulders. "Thank God that's over with," she sighed with relief.

"I dunno if I can call it 'over'," Metzger answered. "I've seen that type a few times on the Force. He'll be back." He stepped toward Mary Jane, his face a mask of fatherly concern. "You want some advice? Tomorrow, you go down to the precinct and get a restraining order on this guy. If they ask for witnesses, give 'em my name. I've got some friends on the Force; they'll take my word over that lowlife."

"Thanks, Mr. Metzger," Mary Jane replied as she unlocked her apartment. "I'll do that." She waved a curt goodbye to her landlord, slipped into her apartment and bolted the door. Leaning against the door, she could feel the adrenaline wash that had empowered her a few moments ago give way, causing her legs to give way beneath her, until she slid against the door. She sat there for five minutes, ten, thirty, an hour before finally collected herself. Lifting herself from that position, she glanced at her wrist where Parr had grabbed her. A purplish bruise started to form, rendering the skin beneath tender and pained. Mary Jane an ice-cold knot of fear form in the pit of her stomach as she realized the terrible truth.

"He's using again," she gasped to herself.

* * *

Now:

"Bobby Carr was a guy I met in Los Angeles," Mary Jane explained as she slowly sipped her mocha. "It was just after you and I...uh..."

"You can say 'broke up', MJ," Peter smiled sardonically. "It's okay."

"'Broke up,'" she scowled as the words left her lips. "Right. Anyway, he and I were costarring in some B-grade monster thing for one of the cable channels, like that Lobster-Man thing I was doing a year or so ago. Anyway, he and I kept running into each other at a few parties that the production company was throwing, and we ended up, well, dating."

"Did you like him?" Peter asked plainly, not really needing an answer. He caught the inflection in her voice as she spoke the name 'Bobby Carr'; she said it like a small child would say the name of a least-favorite food. It was clear to him that she had no use for the man, and judging from what she was telling him, neither did he.

Mary Jane scanned Peter's face, posture and voice for any sign of defensiveness, any trace of jealousy. He seemed relaxed, his voice was non-committal and the only emotion registering in his warm brown eyes was concern. Relaxing somewhat, she continued her story. "I guess I liked him, sure. Before you ask, Tiger, no, it wasn't love. That was the last thing I was looking for. I just wanted someone to spend some time with. I guess I wanted to convince myself that I could still be with a guy and have fun with him, y'know? A guy other than you." Lowering her eyes, she asked meekly, "Does that make me a bad person?"

"Hey, of course not, MJ," Peter reached across the table and took her hands in his, imparting whatever solace he could to her. "Look at me, I had that 'friends with benefits' thing going with the Black Cat after we split."

"Yeah, what happened to that, anyway? If you don't mind me asking."

Peter smiled slightly. "Let's just say that the benefits didn't outweigh the negatives and leave it at that. Wait a minute," Peter added suddenly as a thought occurred to him. "Parr? I think I ran into him. He was being chased by a super-powered stalker when he was in New York last year. She called herself the Paper Doll. Definitely one of the freakier additions to my rogues' gallery."

"Yeah, I was with him at the time," Mary Jane admitted. "Actually, that's about when I dumped his sorry butt. He was trying out for a role in a new movie about Captain America. I found out he was doping up on some kind of mutant steroid cocktail to bulk up for the role. When I found out about the 'roids, it helped put a few things in perspective. I had enough trouble with Harry Osborn's pill-popping back in the day, and that was someone I cared about. Bobby Carr, in the long run, was a shallow, self-absorbed wanna-be superstar with delusions of talent. He wasn't worth it, and neither was the whole Hollywood grind. That's when I decided to come back home to New York and concentrate on my theater career." She took another swig of her drink before continuing. "And to keep in touch with you, of course."

"Of course," Peter shrugged. He started to notice Mary Jane's hooded expression when she mentioned Carr's steroid abuse. "You think he might be taking steroids?"

Her shoulders sagged as she heard Peter's question. Nodding her head slowly, she continued; "Last night, when he confronted me outside my apartment, he grabbed my wrist." She extended her right arm, showing Peter the purplish blotches that had formed on her wrist. Peter winced as he imagined Carr grabbing her roughly by the arm. His distaste for the man had formed into a slowly-smoldering hatred. He silently swore that if, while patrolling New York as Spider-Man he ever encountered Carr, he would happily knock the fear of God into him for hurting Mary Jane. Or at least the fear of Spider-Man.

"Fortunately," she continued as she withdrew her hand, "that's all that he was able to do. My landlord, Mr. Metzger, he showed up at that point and told him that he had called the police. Carr chose to take off, but I'm afraid that he's not going to stop harassing me. Mr. Metzger suggested I should take out a restraining order on him.

"After that mess with Carr, I just couldn't get a good night's sleep. I had this nightmare of Bobby Carr, only he was dressed like Venom, that weird liquid costume melting away from his head to show his face to me. He tried to grab me, then swatted you away like a mosquito. I could still hear him laughing in that dream, unti..." She shuddered, and stared intently into her now room-temperature coffee, her eyes hooded, unreadable. "I just don't want him attacking Aunt Anna, or you, or anyone else I..." She let her voice trail off at that point."

Peter nodded understandingly. "Anyone you care about," he finished the sentence for her, and Mary Jane stifled her feeling of gratitude; she came dangerously close to saying the word 'love'. She wasn't ready for that, not yet.

Peter spoke as calmly as he was able to, damming the tide of rage that he felt over someone threatening his friend. "I think Metzger has the right idea, MJ. Go to the cops, have them put out an order on this guy. And if he still gives you grief—" He reached for her and squeezed her hand reassuringly, "Just remember, you've got me in your corner."

"Thanks, Tiger," she smiled in gratitude and patted his hand. "But I don't expect to have my friendly neighborhood Spider-man fighting all my battles for me."

Peter regarded her with calm determination as he spoke; "Just the ones that need fighting." Smiling suddenly, he added, "Besides, who said anything about Spider-Man? I'm thinking this looks like a job for Peter Parker, Boy Inventor. What are your plans for today?"

"I have preliminary rehearsals for 'Much Ado'," Mary Jane answered, slightly confused by Peter's response. "I was told that they would take until about 2 pm."

"Good," Peter answered. "I'm going to be at Horizon Labs today. Meet me there after rehearsals. I've been working with a security firm on some new home security systems, and I just worked out the kinks on one item. Just meet me there around three-ish."

"I dunno," she demurred. "High-tech security systems can get a little pricey."

"Is 'free' in your price range?" Mary Jane's eyes snapped in focus on Peter's face as he repeated the word; "Free. As in pro-bono."

"Pro-bono?"

"Right, in favor of the lead singer of U2." Mary Jane involuntarily smirked at Peter's atrocious pun, but found her heart lightening in spite of herself. "Seriously, I'll square it with Mr. Modell. He's always looking for beta-testers to try out new tech, so I'll explain your situation and he'll be happy to let you test it out for him. You'll get some added security, Horizon will get a solid test run on the product, and the marketing boys can work in 'Used by stage star Mary Jane Watson' on the packaging. Winner, winner, chicken dinner!"

She found herself laughing in her relief; after last night's scare, she thought that Peter was the only person she could call, and her faith in him was rewarded in ways she hadn't expected. Not only did he provide comfort and reassurance, but perhaps a pragmatic and viable solution to her problem.

"Thank you, Tiger," she smiled warmly as she and Peter got out of their chairs and exited the coffee house. "Now I have to head back to my apartment and get ready for rehearsals. I'll see you at three?"

"I'll be there," Peter promised. "You take care of yourself."

"I will, Peter," Mary Jane answered as she leaned forward to embrace Peter. Kissing him softly on the cheek, she added, "Thanks again, for everything."

"Hey, anything for you, MJ, you know that," he answered as they parted. "See ya later."

As Mary Jane waved goodbye and headed back to her apartment, Peter reached for his cell-phone. Turning it on, he dialed a familiar number.

"Knight-Wing Investigations," her voice answered crisply over the line, "Knight speaking."

"Hey, Misty," Peter greeted her. "Sorry to wake you."

"No need, Parker. I was up anyway. What's up?"

"I got a friend who wants to see the new security system we've been working on," Peter announced. "Can you meet me at Horizon Labs around 2:30. I'm gonna call Luke and have him meet us there."

"Sounds good, Parker," she half-yawned. "I'll see you there. Knight out." Peter nodded as the line disconnected, and prepared to dial another number.

As he made his call, he was unaware of someone who had been regarding him and Mary Jane from his table at the Starbucks. Months ago, his Spider-Senses would have picked up a trace of menace from his observer, but with that advantage lost to him in an encounter with one of his enemies, Peter was unaware of the menace radiating from this figure as he watched him head for the subway entrance.

_This will not do,_ Bobby Carr thought to himself. _You had your chance with her, Mister Parker. She is mine now. And I won't let anyone else touch her again._

* * *

And in the deepest pit of Hell, Mephisto awakened.


	3. The Dog Days Are Over

Disclaimers: Marvel owns 'em, I don't.

Chapter Three

The Dog Days Are Over

_"Happiness, hit her like a train on a track.  
Coming towards her, stuck still no turning back.  
She hid around corners and she hid under beds,  
She killed it with kisses and from it she fled.  
With every bubble she sank with a drink  
And washed it away down the kitchen sink._

_"The dog days are over,_  
_The dog days are done,_  
_The horses are coming so you better run!"_

_—Florence + The Machine_

_ "The Dog Days Are Over"_

The South Street Seaport, 2:47 pm:

"Excuse me," the attractive red-head greeted the receptionist in the Horizon Labs lobby. "I believe I have an appointment with Peter Parker today. My name's Mary Jane Watson."

"Ah, Miss Watson," the receptionist smiled at her. "Mr. Parker did mention you today. I'll inform Dr. Modell." She pressed a button on her phone pad and spoke quietly into her headset's microphone. After a few seconds, she nodded and turned back to Mary Jane. "Dr. Modell will be up shortly to escort you to Lab Seven." She opened a file drawer behind her desk, and produced a plastic card with a 'V' printed on one side, hanging from a red lanyard. "Visitor's pass," she announced as she handed the card to MJ, along with a clipboard and pen. "If you could sign in, and note the time please."

"Thanks," MJ took the proffered pen and signed her name in the appropriate space. As she handed back the clipboard and pen and slipped the lanyard over her head and around her neck, a stocky gentleman in dark blue khaki pants and a light blue polo shirt approached her. His beard was somewhat shaggy but fairly well-trimmed, and his sandy-red hair, while receding, was still combed back in an impressive widow's peak.

"Ah, you must be Peter's friend, Miss Watson," he greeted her heartily with a warm handshake. "I'm Dr. Max Modell. He told me about you this morning. Didn't go into too many details, merely suggested that you may have use of his latest invention."

"Thanks, Dr. Modell," she answered as she accepted his cordial handshake. "And call me MJ."

"Only if you agree to call me Max. Peter will be meeting us at the main testing lab. If I may escort you?"

"Lead the way, Max," MJ answered as she followed him to the elevator.

"I understand that Peter is working on a new kind of high-security lock," Max commented as the elevator descended. "From previous experience with him, I'd say we're in for an entertaining demonstration."

"He's pretty much the smartest person I know," MJ answered with some sly pride.

The elevator doors slid open, and Max escorted MJ to Peter's lab. Peter was talking with a statuesque woman with a neatly trimmed afro, while a muscular figure with a clean-shaven head and a white t-shirt leaned against the wall watching. "Ah, Peter," Max greeted his young protégé, "your guest for the afternoon has arrived."

"Hey, MJ," Peter greeted the redhead. "Dr. Modell, this is Misty Knight from Knight-Wing investigations, they're the security firm that I'm working with for the new Guardian deadbolt system." Misty gave a curt wave. "And the surly gentleman in the corner over there is Luke Cage, an associate of Miss Knight's and a member of the Avengers."

Luke straightened himself up long enough to take Max's hand in a firm but friendly handshake. "Pleased to meet you," he greeted the scientist.

"And you," Max replied, smiling.

"And this, ladies and gentlemen," Peter held up a brass tube with a doorknob assembly attached to it, "for your edification and entertainment, is the Guardian electronic doorknob lock. A high-security locking system designed to be unobtrusive and install the same way as a convetional doorknob. Also comes with a deadbolt that operates with the same key." With a slight flourish, he handed the lock mechanism to Max.

"I don't see a keyhole on this device," Max observed as he turned the lock over in his hand. He tried turning the doorknob, but it held fast. "How does it unlock?"

"Like this," Peter answered, holding up a round red plastic piece roughly the size of a quarter. "Electronic key, similar to those used for keyless entry on your newer cars. Just press the button in the center—" As he triggered the switch, the key emitted an electronic chirping sound, the tumblers rotated, and Max was able to twist the doorknob easily.

Peter continued with his demonstration; "The locking mechanism contains electronic sensors. This panel here," he indicated a brass plate on the side of the doorknob base with four screw holes, "slides off so you can take out the circuitry and battery pack. I removed the screws for demonstration purposes." He slid the panel off with his thumb, and pressed a stud inside the base to release a black plastic battery-pack. "The pack contains the circuitry and a Lithium-Ion battery pack, and a similar pack is inside the deadbolt assembly. The lock package will come with two battery packs for each lock, so you can always have one in rotation. It also comes equipped with a USB cable that you can use to connect the pack to a home computer so you can recharge it or reset the passcodes. The cable can also charge the mini-batteries in the keys. The system comes with four keys, because let's face it, people lose their keys, or pockets get picked or purses get swiped. We've all been there, am I right?"

As the others murmured in agreement, Misty Knight took over the pitch; "If someone tries to use the key without setting a proper pass-code, or if someone tries to tamper with the lock or jimmy the door open, the lock will send a silent alarm signal to either Knight-Wing Investigations or the police, who will then contact the owner of the lock at a preferred phone number to verify if they're in trouble. You can also set up the lock to sound an alarm, like this." She triggered the electronic key she was holding, setting off a shrill chirping sound that caused most everyone in the room to cover their hands with their ears. Pressing the key again, she silenced the alarm. "My partner Colleen and I, we have the website for this lock up and running, complete with instructions and trouble-shooting aids. With the software we're including as part of the package, you'll be able to reprogram the lock from your PC. The lock is also Bluetooth-compatible, so you can download a free ap from our site for your smart-phone. With the ap, you can reset both locks and all four keys simultaneously from your smart-phone. If you lose the key or it gets stolen, you can reset your lock immediately to prevent anyone from using it, and even use your phone to unlock the door."

"How far can you be from the lock for the key to work on it?" Max asked.

"Fifty feet, give or take," Peter answered. "Makes it convenient if you're trying to carry grocery bags or other bulky objects while fumbling for your keys."

"And let me tell ya," Luke added, "that lock is tough. Me, I can routinely bench roughly 25 tons, and break through normal locks like they were made of Lego bricks, but I couldn't break that sucker. Pete has some video footage of me trying to break down a door that's set up with one of these bad boys."

"I should like to see that," Max commented.

"I have the DVD right here," Peter announced, pulling a disc out of a desk drawer.

"I shall peruse it later," Max offered as he accepted the disc. "I'm sure that I'll be as suitably impressed by the footage as I am from your demonstration. From what you've shown me, it looks like you have another winner on your hands, Peter." To MJ, he added, "And may I say, MJ, that I am indeed grateful for your participation in this project. Please keep us informed about how well the product works."

"I will," MJ promised. "Is this the model I'll be taking home with me?"

"That's the demo model," Peter explained, producing a parcel wrapped in brown paper from under the lab table. "Here's yours. Max, do you mind if I take this to her apartment and help her with installation?"

"Not at all, Peter," Max grinned. "You've certainly earned your paycheck. I'll see you later this week."

"Mind if I tag along, Pete?" Luke asked. Misty nodded at Luke's words, prompting Peter to shrug his shoulders. "Not at all," he answered as he and MJ prepared to leave.

Before she joined the others, MJ turned her attention back to Max Modell. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Max," she tipped her hand to Peter's boss as she collected her new lock. "Peter's had nothing but good things to say about you since he started working here."

"What a coincidence," Max replied, chuckling. "I've had nothing but good things to say about Peter." With a somewhat conspiratorial tone in his voice he added, "You're a most fortunate woman, MJ."

"What?" she stammered slightly at his comment. "No, we—we're just friends."

"Of course," he nodded noncommittally, although the knowing expression didn't leave his eyes. MJ shrugged her shoulders as she and the others waved their goodbyes to Max Modell.

"Hey, Luke," MJ ventured after they boarded the elevator, "how's Jessica these days? Haven't seen her in awhile."

"Oh, she's doin' well," Luke answered. "And you should see Dani. She's trying to stand, using the coffee table or the sofa armrest to support herself. Hate to sound cliché, but man, kids grow up fast." He paused, regarding the redhead with a discerning eye. "So what's really going on, MJ?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Luke observed, "that you're a reasonably successful actress, former reality TV star, done some stage work, and now you need to beef up security. Shut me up if I'm out of line, but I'm thinkin' paparazzi or stalker."

MJ's shoulders sagged as the center of her brow creased with the tension of the last 24 hours. "Closer to stalker, Luke," she admitted. "Guy I used to date. Steroid user. I dumped him but he won't take a hint."

Luke Cage regarded the red-haired actress before her; during the time she and Peter had lived at Avengers Tower, Luke had quickly learned to respect Mary Jane Watson as a woman possessed of great courage and strength. Certainly being in love with a superhero required an abundance of both. Her courage only failed her, and her relationship with Peter, during that terrible ordeal last year, when the passage of the Superhero Registration Act resulted in half of the country's heroes being branded as outlaws. Luke scowled inwardly at the thought; those dark days nearly cost him his marriage to Jessica as well. To say nothing of giving that psychotic Norman Osborn a clear shot at the keys to the kingdom.

And seeing MJ as she stood before him now, clearly shaken by this possible stalker, brought it all back to him, how fragile human strength can be.

Misty was clearly thinking the same thing as well. "You consider getting a restraining order on this clown?" she asked.

"I went to the police first thing this morning," she answered soberly. "My landlord's a retired cop and he offered to serve as a witness. Figure it may take some time to process the request." Misty and Luke nodded in understanding.

"Well, first we'll get this bad boy installed," Peter promised, hefting up the Guardian lock, "then we'll work it out from there. Don't worry, MJ, we'll have this taken care of."

"Say, Misty," Luke asked nonchalantly, "you know if Danny's doin' anything over the next few days?"

Misty pursed her lips in thought. "He'll be fine for Saturday," she answered, "but he promised me dinner at Benedetti's on Friday. They make this sausage tortellini soup and eggplant parmagiana combo that just dances on the tongue. Seriously, you guys need to check it out sometime." The elevator slowed to a halt as she spoke and the door slid open.

"Wait," Peter stopped the conversation suddenly as he and his friends filed out of the elevator. "You and Danny get back together, Misty?" Luke smirked knowingly at Peter's comment; the on-again, off-again romance between Misty Knight and Daniel Rand, the premiere martial artist known to the world as Iron Fist, had become something of a favorite soap opera among the Avengers. Luke for his part was pleased to know that his two closest friends in the world had chosen to give their love another chance.

"Hey," Misty shrugged her shoulders defensively, "it ain't easy being in love with a superhero, but the heart wants what it wants! Am I right?" She addressed this last question to MJ, who felt a compulsive urge to avert her eyes from Misty's face. "So what were you thinking, Luke?"

"I was thinking," Luke drawled in that familiar tone he assumed when he was on the verge of making a suggestion, "maybe if you wanted to, Peter, while you're out, you know," he briefly raised his right hand, pressing his middle and ring fingers into his palm while extending his index and little fingers, "I thought you might like to join Danny and me out on patrol. I'm thinking of hanging around MJ's neighborhood, y'know, just in case..."

"Wait up, Luke," MJ turned sharply toward him. "I can see where this is going, and no, I don't want you..." she then turned and pointed at Peter, "or you, going after Bobby Carr."

"Who said anything about going after him?" Luke asked.

Peter smiled as he understood his meaning. "A little 'impact police work', Luke?"

"Impact police work?" MJ was clearly puzzled by the turn of phrase.

"Exactly," Luke answered. "Sometimes, the Mayor will send a bunch of cops into a troubled neighborhood and just have them hang around and be visible. This sends a message to any drug-dealers or gangs that they should seriously consider relocating. So what I'm thinking is that we won't do anything out of the ordinary, just hang around the neighborhood, make sure the streets are safe, y'know, business as usual. But if this Parr guy starts noticing that Spider-Man, Luke Cage and Iron Fist are frequenting your neighborhood, maybe he'll get the idea that hasslin' you ain't worth his time."

"Well," MJ demurred, "I guess that could work. I just don't want to see you guys getting into trouble on my account, not with 'Hizzonnah' Mayor Jameson on his anti-Spider-Man crusade."

"Don't worry about us, MJ," Peter assured her, "we won't be going out looking for him." He turned back toward Luke, his voice suddenly more quiet, less casual. "But if he happens to find us..." He left the sentence deliberately hanging, and MJ couldn't help but notice that his eyes darkened slightly.

* * *

Peter and MJ said their goodbyes to Luke and Misty and made their way across Manhattan for her apartment. MJ's spirits were starting to lift, thanks to the offers of assistance from Peter and his associate from the Avengers, and she finally allowed herself to relax. Her conversation with Peter on the subway back home became more animated, especially when Peter asked her how her initial rehearsals for "Much Ado About Nothing" went.

"It was mostly reading the first act," MJ explained, "and setting up the details of the production. The way this production works, they're setting the play in 1945, just after V-Day, when the American soldiers returned home from World War II. Fits with the main plotline of Claudio romancing Hero after the fighting was over."

"Yeah, that's the one thing that bothered me about the play, at least when I saw the movie," Peter interrupted. "I mean, the way Claudio treated Hero when Don Pedro made him think she was unfaithful, then acting like everything was all hunky-dory-fine when her good name was cleared. If I were Shakespeare, I'd have ended the play with Hero telling Claudio to sit and spin."

"I see your point, Peter," MJ admitted. "And actually that question was brought up during the initial cast meeting today. Beverly Jenkins, the director, she said that she wanted to explore that a little, by showing that while Claudio's treatment of Hero was, well..." She struggled briefly to think of the right word.

"In violation of Wil Wheaton's Law?" Peter offered. "'Don't Be a Dick'?"

MJ pursed her lips in thought for a second, and then nodded; "Yeah, that works. Anyway, the way they're setting it up, Claudio's as much a victim of Don Pedro's schemes as Hero was, and when the truth comes out, he'll be making a genuine show of remorse for his actions, so he'll end up a little bit more sympathetic by the end of the play."

"So no unearned happy endings?"

"You got it," MJ answered, smiling. The train stopped at the station nearest to MJ's apartment and they disembarked, Peter still carrying MJ's lock. Pale gray clouds began to obscure the eastern sky, carrying the promise of rain later in the evening. "Meanwhile," MJ continued to explain her role in the play, "I'm supposed to play my character, Beatrice, like Rosie the Riveter, a real independent spirit."

"Bit of a stretch there," Peter smirked, winning a playful slap across the shoulder. Peter laughed and feebly defended his statement; "I'm just saying that I don't see you playing Bella Swan anytime soon."

"Ugh, don't remind me!" MJ started to laugh along with Peter. "A friend of mine in LA kept telling me, 'You have to read 'Twilight' it's the best book ever!'. I got through two chapters and started to reevaluate our friendship..." MJ's voice tapered off as she turned her head toward the direction of her apartment. A police car was parked in front of the building, its lights flashing from the vehicle's roof. "Oh, that can't be good," MJ muttered under her breath as she ran toward the building, Peter following behind her.

She approached a policeman standing on the steps to her apartment building. "Excuse me, sir," she asked, her voice breathless from the exertion of running a city block in heels. "What's happening here?"

The cop regarded her dispassionately. "Are you the tenant in apartment 204?"

She swallowed hard and nodded. "Yeah, Mary Jane Watson, what happened?"

"Miss Watson, you okay?" a voice called out from the entryway. Mr. Metzger made his way down the steps toward her, his face a mask of concern. "I was trying to call ya earlier."

"Sorry, Mr. Metzger, I was with Peter at his lab," she explained to her landlord.

Peter stood behind MJ as she spoke to Mr. Metzger. "I'm Peter," he introduced himself nervously. "She told me about her run-in with an old boyfriend last night and I offered to help her install a new high-end lock for her front door."

"Yeah," Metzger answered gruffly. "Well MJ, I'm sorry but it looks like your friend from last night paid a visit while you were gone." MJ's heart sank like a leaden weight in her chest at those words. She immediately rushed to her apartment, only to find two cops sealing off her doorway with a strip of yellow cordon tape bearing the words 'CRIME SCENE, DO NOT ENTER' in black block lettering. "Oh my God," she whispered as she approached her apartment.

"Excuse me, miss," a female detective asked her in a firm yet polite voice. "My name is Detective Morales. Is this your apartment?" When MJ nodded, the detective told her partner, "Let her pass."

The officer escorted MJ into her apartment, and MJ was sickened by what she saw. Torn magazines scattered over the room. Deep rips in the upholstery of her sofa. The words 'BE MINE OR DIE' scrawled over the window in livid red spray-paint. A framed photo of her on her coffee table, the glass smashed with a hammer. "Your landlord told us that he heard a commotion this afternoon and chased someone off the property around 3 pm," Morales informed MJ. "Miss Watson, do you have any idea who may have been responsible?"

MJ held her forehead with her hands as the dread she felt the night before after her initial encounter with Bobby Carr re-emerged and threatened to overwhelm her. "Bobby," she spat out in response to the detective's question. "Bobby Carr. Ex-boyfriend, I dumped him last year when he started doing steroids. He came by my apartment last night..."

As she glanced around her vandalized living room, she noticed Peter standing in the hallway, his hazel eyes radiating concern. She rushed toward him, collapsing in his arms, sobbing with nameless terror. Peter just held her in his arms, murmuring, "It's okay, MJ, it's gonna be okay." All the while he desperately tried to ignore the vaguely floral scent that he recognized as her favorite shampoo or the soft smooth planes of her back where his hand touched.

"Miss Watson," Detective Morales spoke up, "we'll need to close this crime scene for the night, to find more information. We've also put out an APB on Carr, but if you could provide a detailed physical description it would be very helpful."

"I'll tell you what I can," MJ answered, tears still shining in her eyes.

"Is there a place where you can stay for the night?"

"My apartment," Peter volunteered immediately. "I have a large fold-out sofa-bed in my living room, I can sack out there while she takes my bedroom." MJ looked at Peter as if to protest, but ultimately nodded her head in silence.

"If I may take your statement, Miss Watson," the detective continued, "then you can pack some clothes. From what we've seen, the perp only messed up the living room. Evidently your landlord scared him off before he could go any further."

"Thanks," MJ said flatly. "Peter, could you just wait for me? I'll be down in about ten minutes or so."

"Take your time, MJ," Peter assured her. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll be outside." MJ gave Peter a wan smile as she turned her attention back to the detective.

Peter stepped outside the apartment and quietly made his way to a nearby alleyway. Glancing left and right to make sure no one was listening, he pulled out his cellular and dialed a familiar number.

"Luke Cage speaking."

"Luke, it's Peter. I took MJ to her apartment, but it looks like her stalker beat us there. Place got trashed, and he left a threatening message in spray-paint."

"Sweet Christmas!" Luke swore angrily. "You wanna suit up and scour the neighborhood with me tonight, see if we can collar this scum?"

"Wish I could," Peter admitted. "Look, MJ's pretty shaken up, so I'm going to take her to my place and watch over her tonight."

"You do that, Pete. I'll hook up with Danny and do some scouting around."

"Thanks, Luke, I owe you."

"Just keep her safe, Pete. Later." The phone disconnected.

Peter went back to the front steps of MJ's apartment, just as Mr. Metzger escorted MJ out, a suitcase in her hand. "Here, MJ," Peter offered, taking MJ's suitcase in his left hand and placing his right arm around her shoulder. "Let's get you safe."

As MJ sagged into his side, Peter silently prayed that he didn't run into Bobby Carr any time soon. Not that he feared for his own safety.

More accurately he feared for what he would do to Carr if their paths crossed.

* * *

"Are you sure about this, MJ?" Peter asked her as they entered his apartment. "I mean, I don't mind sleeping on the sofa."

"I'm not putting you out of your bed tonight, Tiger," MJ insisted. "I'll be just fine on the sofa. Besides, I have a rehearsal tomorrow morning; I'll be up well before you are."

"You sure about doing rehearsals, MJ?"

"If I don't show up for my second rehearsal they'll give the role to someone else," MJ insisted. "Besides, if I don't keep busy I'll go nuts worrying about Carr."

"If you say so," Peter conceded. "But you sure you'll be okay on the sofa?"

"Peter, I once did a location shot at Monument Valley and the bed on the trailer was six inches shorter than me. I'll be okay, really." As Peter regarded her with that familiar compassionate gaze of his, she swallowed hard and willed herself to smile. She had to be okay. She had to show him that she was okay.

"Hey," he volunteered, "you want me to order us a pizza?"

MJ nodded. "Yeah, I'd like that," she whispered. _Same ol' Peter_, she thought to herself, _always putting someone else before himself._"Look, I'm feeling kinda grubby from the subway and all that, would you mind if I took a quick shower? I won't be long..."

"Take as long as you need," Peter smiled reassuringly. "Mi casa es su casa and all that. Pepperoni and bell pepper, right?"

MJ smiled inwardly. Of course he would still remember her favorite pizza toppings. She nodded briefly before heading for the shower, as Peter grabbed a phone to contact the nearest pizza delivery place.

By the time MJ finished her shower, the pizza had arrived. She was wearing her normal bedclothes, a pale pink t-shirt and blue sweatpants. She joined Peter on the sofa and they consumed the pizza in relative silence. Where yesterday evening there was conversation and occasional laughter, the only sound now was the rattling of a steady summer rain on the window, punctuated by the occasional rumble of thunder. The bitter irony of this was not lost on MJ. Their Chinese take-out dinner roughly 24 hours ago, it seemed like a lifetime now, as her joy at getting a new job was now supplanted by fear for her life, fear of the greatest mistake she ever made following her home.

She glanced furtively at Peter as he took a bite out of his third slice of pizza. She saw those hazel eyes fixed on her face, so warm with compassion. _No_, she corrected herself sadly, _Bobby Carr was only the _second_-worst mistake she ever made_. Her fear began to subside, replaced by resolve. For the first time in many months, she saw the clear path before her, and she was determined to take it.

Peter, for his part, was dealing with his own private thoughts, which were becoming increasingly polarized. His heart, as always, went out to the sad redhead sitting beside him, but he wasn't sure what he could do to protect her. She had faced dangers before when they were together—being involved with your friendly-neighborhood Spider-Man came with more baggage than a safari. Not to mention the fact that her own chosen career had its own inherent risks. He still shuddered at times when he recalled how a wealthy psychopath named Jonathan Caesar had kidnapped her, feeling that because he loved her—or whatever passed for 'love' in his twisted mind—that he was entitled to her, and her desires in the matter be damned!

But this sudden situation with Carr felt different. More urgent, more dangerous. All he knew was that in all the years he knew her, Peter had seen Mary Jane Watson this truly frightened only once before. After the initial passage of the Superhero Registration Act over a year ago. When his opposition of that controversial law resulted in a sniper shooting his Aunt May, while MJ was in the same room with her.

And MJ's wellsprings of patience finally reached their limit, and she walked out of their apartment and their relationship for good. Probably the smartest move she could have made, Peter reflected some weeks after the fact, but it was something that he never fully got over.

Six weeks ago, he saw his ex-girlfriend Carlie Cooper off at JFK International. He could still remember the last words she said to him before she boarded the plane to Los Angeles; "Do us all a favor, Peter, and tell MJ you're still in love with her, huh?"

He had protested Carlie's words in his mind ever since that day. He and MJ had their chance, and they both moved on. Didn't they?

He wasn't in love with MJ anymore. Was he?

Finally, the last of the pizza was eaten, and Peter quietly stashed the cardboard delivery box into a recycling bin under his kitchen sink.

"Hey, MJ," Peter offered as he returned from the kitchen, "I'm about to take a shower myself and turn in. If you wanna watch a movie or something before sacking out, feel free."

"Thanks, Peter," MJ shook her head. "But I think I'll pass."

Peter sat on the sofa and instinctively reached for MJ's hand, which she offered without protest. "Look, Red. I know you're scared, I get that. Scared is the preferred emotional response for a situation like this. But we're going to beat this, you hear me? Luke Cage and Danny Rand are out there right now looking for Carr, the cops are on his case. He'll be locked up for stalking and vandalism charges. Trust me, it's all gonna work out."

MJ leaned into Peter's arms, taking what comfort he had to offer as her face nestled so easily, so naturally, into his shoulder. Peter's hand absently sifted through MJ's long red hair as he brushed the top of her head with the lightest of kisses.

After several minutes, Peter reluctantly pulled his head away, but his arms remained around MJ's waist. "Hey, MJ," he asked, "is there anything else you want me to do for you before I turn in? Need me to help you pull out the sofa-bed?"

MJ lifted her face to meet Peter's eyes with her own. Her lips were upturned in a slight smile, as she felt her resolve strengthen, and a throaty chuckle escaped her lips. "What's so funny?" Peter asked.

MJ chuckled again, almost sensuously. "I was just thinking about my fortune cookie last night?" she commented. "The one that said, 'You will soon have the opportunity to correct a great mistake'." She paused for a pregnant moment. _This could go wrong so many ways,_ she mentally warned herself, _but right now nothing else matters. Put up or shut up, girlfriend._"Yes, Peter," she declared. "There is something I want you to do for me."

Deliberately she placed her hands around the back of Peter's head and pulled him toward her. Tilting her head slightly, she soundly kissed his lips, her hands combing through his hair.

Peter suddenly jerked his head away from her, his mouth hanging open in utter shock. "MJ!" he stammered, "what are you doing?"

"Correcting a great mistake," she replied, her voice an earthy growl, as she moved toward him. Peter tried to diplomatically move away, but ended up leaning too far back, allowing MJ to push him gently down with his back on the sofa and her weight pressed against his chest. She lowered her head to his, again planting searing kisses on his lips, his cheeks, his chin.

"Uh, we—we shouldn't be doing this," Peter stammered weakly, his own resolve fading as the woman he now realized he never truly fell out of love with continued her assault.

"Trust me, Tiger," she murmured between kisses, "we should." Her hands had begun to trail feather-light caressed across his shoulder-blades, slowing working their way downward. "That is," she added as a polite after thought, "unless you don't want it."

"It's not that, MJ," Peter assured her. "It's just that, well, given all that's happened, I really shouldn't take advantage of you like this."

MJ stopped her onslaught of kisses and lifted her head slightly, a bemused smirk playing on her lips which in Peter's eyes made her look even sexier. "Peter," she observed wryly, "I don't know if you've noticed it, but I'm on top of you right now. Who's taking advantage of whom here? Look, let's make it simple; do you want to make love to me tonight?"

Peter stared longingly at the red-haired goddess lying on top of him. "Oh God yes," he breathed, as he lifted his upper body to a more upright posture, his arms still firmly wrapped around MJ's waist. "Tonight, tomorrow night, any night. But I don't want you doing this out of fear. I just don't want you to do anything you'll regret."

MJ leaned forward again, placing another kiss on Peter's lips. "I am afraid, yes," she admitted. "Afraid of Bobby Carr, afraid that he'll hurt me, hurt you, hurt my sister and her kids, yeah, I'm afraid of that. But I'm not afraid of you. Not of us. And no matter what happens tomorrow, I will never regret loving you."

She leaned in for one last kiss, her mouth open and waiting. The last of Peter's resolve eroded away by the desire he and MJ shared, he placed his right arm under her legs and held her back with his left. He stood up, lifting her body in his strong arms, eliciting a whoop of surprise and joy from MJ as he carried her slowly toward her bedroom. She hugged him tightly by the shoulders and purred in his ear, "I think I just remembered why I call you 'Tiger', Tiger."

Hours later, two naked lovers slept soundly in each other's arms, her hand placed gently on his chest, his arms wrapped protectively around her torso. Their last thoughts as they drifted to sleep after their passionate lovemaking were much the same. That the game had changed. That nothing would ever be the same again.

And that living apart from each other would no longer be a viable option.

* * *

And from the deepest pit of Hell, Mephisto watched...


End file.
